


Because it's Real

by kaotic312



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife Fix-It, F/M, Gen, Stealing a dwarf is fun, Theft caper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaotic312/pseuds/kaotic312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Titles - "How to Steal a Dwarf" or "Grand Theft Dwarf".  Post BoFA and LoTR.  In the Undying Lands a burglar is recruited to break into the Halls of the Waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because it's Real

The Undying Lands.

Whatever it was that he expected, it wasn't thus.

The first day after his arrival by ship, well, he did not recall much. Beauty, most certainly. A breathtaking and thought stealing type of beauty. An exquisiteness that would steal an elf's mind and pierce the core of his being.

Light! Light so pure and perfect that there were no shadows. But not over-bright, not burning. Welcoming, peaceful and warming. It had taken him by surprise though, that here there were truly no shadows.

Days, months …possibly years …passed on that thought alone. Spinning and searching, delighting in the discovery that here there were no shadows. Not physical ones.

Metaphorically? There was a shadow.

But in those first moments, however lengthy they may be since time held no meaning here, he could ignore that particular and unseen shadow. Losing himself instead within the comeliness of the music.

For all was music here.

Music was power and the song was perfect. Not the music that created Arda itself, for that song was spent. This was another tune, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, but always present. Swelling and waning, and if it were directed he could not see nor say.

And it was through the music that he was reminded of something important. His name.

Thranduil sighed. Yes. He sighed. Then lost another few days or months in the glory of realizing that he had lungs. And they still worked!

More time was lost as he rediscovered his other senses and was able to separate his senses into actual thought. And then came the true discovery.

The music had a voice.

Thranduil turned his head and met eyes familiar to him, though he had not seen them for so long. Eyes he longed to see. And those eyes saw him back.

"Father?"

"Legolas." The name escaped his lips on the exhalation of a breath. He almost lost himself in the music of breathing and seeing, but was able to focus in on … "Legolas." Thranduil's voice firmed.

"Father?"

"I think he sees you now."

Thanduil frowned as a new note entered the song he could hear. Not discordant exactly, but something new and wholly different. A beat, an undercurrent, almost like drums beneath the airy perfection of harp and lute.

"You have thought so before, my friend." Legolas sounded worried. And that was wrong. Why was his son worried so?

"Legolas?"

"He sees you this time. I am sure of it."

"Gimli, please!"

Thanduil's mouth twisted downward into a frown and his eyes fell to the red-bearded dwarf standing beside his son. Gimli. Friend. Someone his son had chosen to spend eternity with, and not him. "Go away, pest."

"He does see us!" The dwarf sounded too excited, Thranduil decided. "He even recognizes me!"

Blond hair moved in front of him and Thranduil blinked, trying to clear his vision and his mind. Bluish-purple eyes met his, darkening to nearly brown even as he watched. "My son, my son …."

"Come, father. Sit."

Sit? Had he sat since he arrived here in the Undying Lands? "Perhaps that would be good."

Juice was placed in his hand. How he knew it to be juice Thranduil was unsure, for he was marveling at it being there and not drinking from the cup.

"Father. There is a lost-ness, an unseeing and relearning when you first arrive. Focus on my voice."

First arrive? Thranduil paused, he'd been there for years now. Hadn't he? "How long?"

Gimli coughed, pulling a sharp frown from Thranduil. "Some come out of it quickly, others never do so."

No. No, no. Thranduil's frown increased as his eyes focused further. That was the answer to the wrong question. "Fool. How long since my arrival?"

Legolas laughed lightly, clapping his father on the shoulder. "Yes. Anger him, it will bring him out of the arrival daze."

Gimli chuckled hoarsely, walking forward. "Anger your father? And elf, how do you propose I do that more than I already do? Simply by existing I anger your father."

Thranduil's focus narrowed on the dwarf moving forward, drawing himself up haughtily. "I had heard you had sailed West with my son, but did not credit it. Legolas, have you lost your mind?"

The blond smiled at his father. "No. That would be you at the moment." He said pointedly. Then in a softer tone he continued, "and welcome to you, my father. It seems my dwarven friend has helped you to find your mind once more."

And it was true. Thranduil looked around him. The light was no less beautiful, and the song not one jot less inviting, but he was himself once more. He stood, turning in a slow circle as he looked around him.

He was standing in a clearing, woodlands surrounding him. A cabin. A mountain to one side, though it seemed they were on a slope of its side. "I did not expect a mountain." He murmured.

"I think it was formed for Gimli's sake."

Thranduil turned surprised eyes on his son.

"Here, this place brings you what eases your soul." Legolas shrugged. "Not what you want, but what is needed only. Even when you don't know what that might be." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "Which might be why we woke up and found you standing out here almost on our front porch."

Thranduil's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline in surprise. "I needed you?" It was a question, not a statement.

"Apparently." Gimli said, rocking back and forth on his rather large feet. "Imagine our surprise upon waking."

"All the more, since you had vowed never to sail West." It was spoken as a comment, but there was a question underlying the words. Legolas stared at his father.

Evasively, Thranduil focused on looking about him. "How long have I been here, in the Undying Lands?"

"When did you sail?" The blond elf, who would never be old, queried. His question ended a bit abruptly, as if there were more to ask.

"Perhaps a century after you." Thranduil admitted quietly, hearing the unspoken questions but choosing not to explain further. Not yet.

Gimli and Legolas shared a look, an unspoken intimacy that allowed them to nearly read each other's thoughts. It made the father feel outside of things. "You must have only just arrived."

Thanduil stared at his child with shock. "But it feels like I've been here for years upon years."

"This place'll do that to ya." Gimli beamed at his friend's father and one who had only grudgingly accepted him for his son's sake.

Legolas crossed his arms, studying his father with something akin to wonderment. "Your father separated the wood elves to the Great Wood centuries ago. Avowing that elves were better off without the Valar. Taking us from their influence. He and all like-minded wood elves chose to fade or die, rather than sail west."

Gimli watched the two tall elves most carefully, but this was not his conversation and he remained silent. Still his heart ached to see the painful tenseness in Legolas's shoulders.

Thranduil looked to the sky. This was a blue so fine it made him hurt to see it, but in a way that was almost euphoric. "So. The Undying Lands."

"Father …" Legolas' voice trailed off, but there was a hint of steel. He was not letting the matter go.

The former King of Mirkwood grimaced, then relented a bit. "In my life, so much of which I knew turned out to be incomplete. I …made some choices that I regret. Was angry when I should have listened, fought when I should have helped."

Legolas couldn't have looked more shocked, his eyes distressingly wide.

Thranduil shrugged. "I followed someone West that I find I could not let go of."

Gimli grinned sappily, looking back and forth between father and son. Slowly that grin drooped a bit as he realized that Legolas looked even tenser than before. He grumbled something about needing ale for this conversation.

The younger blond elf shook his head. "Why did you not tell me she sailed West?"

She.

Gimli walked away, now understanding a bit more. He walked over to a small table in the middle of the field and picked up his mug of ale. He downed it with a huge sigh.

Thanduil's attention was caught by the movement. He stared at the table, the platter, and the mug in Gimli's hand. "That was not there but a moment ago."

"It is now." Teased the dwarf. "And much needed too." He belched quite loudly, drawing a frown from the far more fastidious elf lord.

The tall elf lord narrowed his eyes on the dwarrow. "I need a sword." He said evenly.

Gimli looked about with pretend worry, eyes wide and gleaming with mirth. Laughter escaped him as Legolas sighed and shook his head. The red-bearded dwarf shrugged. "Looks like that be more of a want, than a need."

"Violence is not the way here, father."

"A threat, merely." Thranduil shrugged off the lack of a sword with little concern.

"Come."

Thranduil looked at his son, proud and straight in his simple tunic and pants. He frowned. "Where are your elvish robes?"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "We are in the Undying Lands. Valinor. Do you really think I need robes for anyone to see that I am an elf?"

"You live with a Dwarf." The lost-feeling father muttered darkly.

"Pardon." Gimli cleared his throat gruffly. "But point in fact, the elf lives with me."

Legolas turned and sent a questioning look at his long-time friend.

Gimli shrugged. "Do you think the mountain and cabin would be here if not for my presence?" He gestured behind them at the cozy abode. "It doesn't exactly look like a tree-house does it now?"

The tall blond rolled his eyes and sent a glance at his father, then held out one hand. "Come."

"Is the dwarf coming?" Thranduil sneered.

"Not for this." Gimli said, his earlier mirth disappearing like fog before piercing sunlight. "This be for you two."

Intrigued, a bit concerned, the elf lord raised one eyebrow at his son.

Legolas, unlike when he'd been an elfling, did not immediately tell his father what was going on. Instead, Thranduil received nothing from his son but an utterly patient look. Something that should make him proud of his child, but right now was merely frustrating.

"How far are we going?" Thranduil asked, taking a step toward his son and then halting as something shifted deep within him.

One minute he was in a clearing on the side of a mountain, the next he was in a flat plain full of flowers and starlight. It was night here. Beautiful and crisp and perfect.

Stunned, Thranduil could only gape.

Legolas smiled grimly. "Do not bother trying to make order of the geography. It changes."

"The time of day as well." Thranduil muttered, still staring around him with unnaturally wide eyes.

The younger of the two nodded his head in acknowledgement. "According to the needs of those here." He gestured. "This place is for those who contemplate, before returning to the light."

"Returning to the light?" Repeated the tall elf lord in amazement. Here and there he could see an elf. Simply standing. No, wait. A few were seated. Some were nearly transparent. He startled. "They fade?"

"No." Legolas shook his head. "They find nothing more here, and simply lose themselves in the light. Become the light. It is not dying, nor fading. A change."

Anger sparked within the former Mirkwood king. His father, Oropher, had always been spouting off on how the elves were better off without the Valar. Had he spoken truth all along? Thranduil had always thought so, but then he had hoped …

"This is not for everyone. Only for those who are tired and ready. This place is not accessible to most. It can only be found by those who need its peace."

These words sank in, making Thanduil catch his breath most harshly. "Yet you have found this place."

Legolas didn't look worried or upset, he simply smiled a bit sadly. "I found what I needed, but it wasn't this place." He turned and gestured with his right hand. "I was …I had seen some elves find loved ones or family members and I mourned. I mourned that my father's father had declined to even think of sailing West. That my father felt the same. That none of my friends, your followers, would sail West."

Thranduil lifted his head, tilting his nose up in the air, not answering. All that his son spoke was true. Mirkwood elves did NOT sail West. Well, except for those who rejected him and all he and his father had stood for.

"Why did you sail, father? For her?"

A short, but ever-proud nod of his head was all the answer Thranduil was willing to offer.

"You did not tell me she chose to sail. You told me she died."

The pain in the comment pulled a wince even from Thranduil's stoic soul. He sighed in deep regret. "She was dead to me the moment she rejected me."

"Sailing West was not a rejection of you."

"No?!" Thranduil's voice rose almost unbearable loud, an abomination in the quiet plain full of seekers of peace. "She rejected our marriage, our child, our life ….and ME!"

Legolas chided his father silently with but a look.

Thranduil's volume lowered and he gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as if in pain. "Your mother should have stayed with us."

"She dreamed of the sea." Legolas offered. "At least I assume so. As did I. Even Gimli was offered a few such dreams by the Valar, making him welcome to sail with me."

Thranduil shuddered, drawing his cloak around himself protectively. "I wasn't."

This startled his son badly. Legolas stared at him in shock.

The former Mirkwood King laughed without humor. "I sailed West without so much as a single dream. Not the sound of a wave, not the touch of sand, not the scent of ocean. I have stolen here."

Legolas swallowed, then shook his head with rather more force than he'd intended. "No. No. If the Valar did not want to welcome you here, then the boat would have never found purchase upon these shores. You know the lore." He paused, his blue eyes shifting to dark brown with distress. "You set sail, not knowing if you would ever land."

Thranduil shrugged off the truth of the statement. "I was always known for my bravery." He mocked himself and his reputation as a fine warrior, but a cold-hearted one.

"You could have died on that ship!"

"I would have died if I had stayed." The elf father brushed off the concern of his son as easily as swatting away a fly. "And I needed …."

Legolas caught his breath, then nodded in a rather jerky way. "To see if she is here."

Thranduil turned his gaze downward, unable to meet his son's all-too-knowing stare.

A silence fell between the two elves, until finally the son stepped forward and physically turned his father to one side. Standing behind him, his breath trailing off along Thranduil's ear. "You came so far, will you not look?"

It was the father's turn to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. He had come far, and risked much, but now that the moment was before him …. "I find I am afraid."

That revelation drew the son's arms around the father in an embrace that they had rarely shared. "What of that esteemed bravery?"

"It fails me."

Legolas chuckled without mockery, then sighed lightly. "Father. Look. She is here. I felt the need for family and stepped out one day …finding this place. I found mother."

Thranduil's eyes watered, but no tears fell. Blinking rapidly, he looked up, though it took longer than it should have to focus.

Larissiel. Her beauty was more than he remembered. A moan of despair escaped him, and he would have turned away if not for his son holding him with bonds of love and family. And guilt.

Silver. Her hair was as silver as any vein of mithral from within the Lonely Mountain. Strands of gold and sunlight streaked sparsely through the silver tresses that hung straight and true down to nearly her waist. No braid, nor ornament marred the fall of her hair.

Her profile was to him. With her delicate chin and slightly upturned nose that had always caused her embarrassment but he'd found charming.

He could not see her eyes, and that bothered him. Thanduil pulled away from his son's embrace and stepped forward and around the oh-so-still woman standing in the field of flowers. She was gazing up at the clear night sky. He still could not see her eyes. Though he knew them to be a rich hazel-blue that he had never seen elsewhere.

"She is still solid." Legolas' voice pierced his enthrallment.

Thranduil nodded, licking his lips nervously. Larissiel was indeed not as translucent as some of the other elves in the area. But she was still, far too still. He called her name.

Legolas shook his head. "Do you think I have not tried?"

Thranduil rolled his shoulders back in stubborn pride. "You are not me."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Legolas watched his father pace the area in front of the mountainside cabin.

Gimli yawned as he padded around the kitchen area, stretching. "Any left-over pie?"

The blond shook his head with amusement. "No. Not since you got up at 3 a.m. to eat the last of it."

"Did not! Take that back!" The dwarf huffed, and pulled open the bread box he'd crafted only to find it was pie-less.

"Cannot take back the truth." Legolas' worried eyes never left his father, who was muttering to himself.

Gimli sighed. "I need pie." He murmured before closing the bread box, and then opening it again. Still empty. "Damn it!"

"Pie is not a breakfast food."

"With all your years, it's strange you didn't learn that pie is an anytime food." Gimli grouched. "I need pie!" He said it louder. But the bread box remained sadly empty. "Besides, time is screwy on this elvish island of yours. Three in the morning is relative. Just a few feet away it could be noon."

Legolas didn't have an answer for that. So he said nothing.

"Is your da out there again?" Gimli walked over to stand next to his friend, looking out as well. "He is persistant."

"It's been nearly a year." The tall blond elf agreed, then frowned. "At least I think so. Hard to tell here. I miss the seasons."

"Don't!" Yelped Gimli, then winced as the green trees surrounding their clearing suddenly changed color. More specifically, all the leaves went from bright green to gold, reds, and all colors in between. "Sure. Gives you a new season, can't give me a pie." He said sadly.

Ignoring the grouchy dwarf beside him, Legolas smiled wanly. His father had frozen on the spot, staring around him as if he wasn't sure what had happened. Finally Thranduil looked over toward the cabin and started in their direction.

Legolas and Gimli moved out the door by mutual accord. They always met Thranduil outside. The cabin was their personal space, and while the blond's father wasn't unwelcome, he wasn't entirely a cordial guest.

"What just happened?" The former ruler asked, looking more than a little concerned.

Gimli looked around blandly, as if he hadn't noticed anything amiss. "Oh dear. The season changed, didn't it?"

Thranduil was not deaf to the mocking tone in the dwarrow's voice, and he gifted Gimli with an arch look of censure. He threw up his hands in frustration. "The seasons in this accursed place can change on a whim, but the most simple of tasks cannot be accomplished?"

Legolas shifted his weight to his opposite foot, looking sad. "She has not responded to you either, has she?"

The former monarch did not deign to answer the question, thinking the response would have been unnecessary. If his wife had stirred from her currently frozen position, he would not be here, but there instead.

"Fresh eggs, vegetables, and some plum tarts still warm!"

Thranduil stiffened as from behind him came three laden hobbits. Their hands were full and their smiles were large. The badly startled elven lord did something of a double-take and then his mouth gaped open a bit. "Burglar?"

Bilbo Baggins, for it was he, hesitated on the cabin steps as his companions continued up onto the porch. "Yes?" He turned and spoke most pleasantly, then smiled. "Oh yes. King Thranduil. I had heard you had arrived."

Caught completely by surprise, the tall elf felt as if he were reeling mentally, though he kept his balance thankfully. "I …I had heard that you had sailed West. But I had not credited the information."

The dark-haired hobbit with a riot of curls upon his unlined face blinked uncertainly. "Why?"

Thranduil stared at the young hobbit, unsure.

Bilbo beamed. "My dear Frodo, this is the great Elven King who imprisoned my dwarves once upon a time."

Thranduil waved off the comment, his attention fully snagged. "Frodo? The hobbit who was the ring-bearer?"

"My nephew! A fine hobbit all around, though not as round as Samwise here, but still tolerably round and quite comfortable if you please. And even if you don't please. Though I can't imagine why you wouldn't be pleased." Bilbo rambled a bit in his cheerful and sunny manner, pulling a chuckled from the group.

Thranduil drew up to his full height and stared. Just stared.

Self-consciously the hobbit tugged at his brownish-gold curls, then smiled overly wide. "Do I have perhaps something caught in my teeth left over from second-breakfast?"

"No." Thranduil's voice firmed as he continued. "But how is it you look so young? Halflings are not known for overly long years, and you should have aged."

Bilbo drew up as tall as he could manage, his pride a towering thing. "Halfling is not a term we appreciate here. Hobbits are not half of anything, and are indeed double what others may value us at. At? Oh dear. A badly turned phrase, ending clunkily. That will never do. Frodo? Dear lad, some assistance here?"

"We are indeed double the value that has been ascribed to us?" Frodo offered, pulling a quick grin from his friend, Samwise.

"No, no, that's correct but lacks a certain poetic sense." Said the writer with a contemplative look in his eyes. "Oh never mind. We look the age we feel most comfortable with I suppose. Age is meaningless here in the Undying Lands. But never you mind that bit of circular logic with no real answer, come. We've brought goodies! We have come bearing bread, tarts, and a nice mushroom and spinach spread that I've been tinkering with. Added just a hint of water chestnut to it this time."

Samwise grinned. "Lovely crop of turnips, potatoes, and carrots too!" He lofted up a heaping basket of fresh produce.

Thranduil stared. "But …this place provides for our needs. There is no need to grow food."

All three hobbits looked shocked from the tips of their curly heads to the tiniest hairs on their bare feet. Their mouths hung open just as if he'd said the moon was made from spun candy or some such nonsense.

"You'll send the poor lads into apoplexy if you talk like that!" Gimli chided the elvish king.

Legolas smiled gently at the hobbits. "As former ring-bearers they are welcome here in the Undying Lands. And what they needed was provided to them. But it seems you can't just FEED a hobbit, they have a need to put their hands in the soil."

"Well, mostly Sam." Frodo grinned suddenly. "But really, all of us help."

"And since hobbits need to grow things, nice rich farmland is suddenly available?" Thranduil rubbed his forehead in a parody of a headache, though no such real pain existed. Suddenly he looked up, a wild thought crossing his features.

Legolas stiffened in sudden worry. "Father?"

"What if there is something you need. Need absolutely, but you don't know what it is?"

Gimli and the three hobbits all shared a concerned look. "Sometimes this place will give you things you didn't even know you needed until it arrives."

"Like the finest of pipeweed plants ready to transplant." Bilbo admitted slowly. "Had not even really thought about it in order to need it. It being more in the way of a want, but this place still provided."

Sam nodded. "And the soil, temperature, moisture and time of year changes to suit the need of the plants I put in the ground. Strange place this, but no pestilence upon the leaves is always helpful."

Legolas shook his head slowly. "This is not a wish-fulfillment kind of place. It is the Undying Lands. And no my father, it will not return lost loved ones no matter how your heart aches."

"How do you know?" Thranduil demanded, his countenance stern and yet feverishly hopeful. "How could you possibly know that it won't?"

Gimli shook his head, but not at the former monarch, at his long-time friend and near-brother. "No. Don't."

"He should see." Legolas' voice sounded tight, and …angry?

"See what?" Thranduil set his jaw stubbornly, looking at the entire group one by one. None of the hobbits would meet his gaze, and headed into the cabin with their bundles and baskets of food.

"Her condition is not my father's fault."

Gimli leveled a grave and telling look at his friend.

Legolas flinched very slightly around the eyes. "His actions did not help, yes. I know. And I do blame him. But not entirely."

Now it was Gimli whose gaze dropped and he gave a shaky shrug of his broad and powerful shoulders. "He was but one obstacle among many." The red-bearded dwarf admitted.

"Who? What?" Thranduil asked, drawing back slightly, not sure he was ready to know the answer after all. A growing sense of dread and sorrow crept up upon him like a shadow.

Legolas' lips tightened and he made no move, no sound, for a very long moment. Then he abruptly held out one arm, gesturing with his fingers for his father to follow.

Thranduil glanced at Gimli, who jerked his head in the blond elf's direction. The dwarrow moved over to stand beside his friend.

Legolas gave a grateful look to his companion. "You don't have to come, I know her pain chills your soul."

"Only because I share that pain." Gimli commented in a neutral voice that showed he was making an effort at appearing calm. "I am the only dwarf in the Undying Lands. And dwarves are meant to come in sets, family units. Never singular."

Despite Gimli's controlled voice, Thranduil could sense the loneliness and sorrow beneath the tone. Surprised he looked at his son, and saw the blond's concerned look as well.

Thranduil opened his mouth to tell the dwarf he should leave and return to his people in the Halls of the Waiting. Only he closed his mouth instead. Obviously Gimli had known where he was sailing when he'd boarded the ship. And to ask him to leave Legolas would be cruel as the two were so close they might as well be family. It would be almost as bad as asking him to leave his wife now that he'd found her again. Even if she wasn't responding.

"Father?"

Pulled from his musings, Thranduil nodded absently. "If I cannot wake your mother. I will be joining her in that place." He announced softly.

If this bit of news startled his son, it did not show on his handsome features. Eyes so achingly blue that they rivaled any gemstone, stared at his father. Finally, a short nod of his head. "I do not think you are ready for that kind of peace, father. But I do not have it in me to argue with you."

Thranduil looked a bit surprised.

Legolas gave a rueful smile that was clearly not a happy look. "You sailed West with no calling of the sea in your ears nor your dreams. Unknowing if you would ever be allowed to land here. The Valar allowed you to find them, but their reasons they have not shared with us. My point is, that knowing you as I do, you will do as you want no matter my advice, words, or pleas."

At this, Thranduil gave a self-derisive small sigh even as he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Do you know why I decided to sail West, father? Despite everything you, my father, and my father's father ever taught?"

The former Mirkwood ruler shook his head. "I do not need to know." It was almost a plea.

Legolas snorted slightly. "It was not a reprimand or a rebellion against you."

"No?" An arch look with one haughtily raised eyebrow showed that Thranduil was not sure he believed that denial.

"No." Stressed Legolas firmly. "I did dream of the sea. I tired." The blond put a hand on the shoulder of the dwarf by his side. "We tired."

"Yes, yes." Thranduil waved a dismissive hand. "Your dwarf would have grown old and died." He hid his hurt behind a mask, knowing that his son was closer to the dwarf and the Men he'd befriended in Arda than he'd been with him.

"Father …" The word was dragged out like a warning.

Thranduil stilled his tongue with great effort. Why he and his son continually sniped at one another he never really could say. What he'd not said, what he was pretty certain he couldn't say, was that Arda had not fit him right …life had not fit him right …knowing his son was no longer in the world.

So what if he'd not dreamed of the sea or the crashing of the waves. All he'd been able to focus on was seeing his wife and son once more with his own eyes.

"Father. You asked how I know it to be so that the Valar cannot regift you with a lost loved one? No matter how deep your need."

Thranduil stiffened even as he nervously licked his lips. "Now that I have asked, I find myself unwanting of the answer."

Legolas waited him out, simply watching. His eyes shifting between clear blue and a hazy greenish brown. Something the lad had inherited from his father's mother. He wondered if he'd ever told his son that.

"Come with us." Gimli's voice cut through the silence.

"You have guests." Thranduil waved his hand toward the cabin and the hobbits still within. "Poor to leave them here unattended. Have I not taught you better manners than that?"

"Come." Legolas held out his hand once more toward his father. "Do you not want to see what you wrought when you sent her here?"

Her. Thranduil's eyes closed wearily. "Is she …does she thrive here?" It was a faint hope.

"Come." Insisted Legolas.

In the end, Thranduil followed. Followed his tall, proud son and his friend. Gimli, son of Gloin, a dwarf formerly of Erebor and now living in the Undying Lands. Welcomed by the Valar for their efforts in the War of the Rings, much like the hobbits.

Strange. A land that Thranduil's own father had turned his back on was now the home of more than simply elves. How Oropher would have hated the knowledge that his son and his son's son were both here. And mingling with other races in addition.

Did these lads feel that Thranduil was stiff, old-fashioned, and isolationist in his views? Hah. They had missed much not growing up with Oropher, even if his father had aligned himself with Men and Elves against Sauron in the first battles against the Deceiver. Now that had been one unbending elf lord. And one who had never blessed the union between Thranduil and Larissiel, feeling that she was not good enough.

Thranduil let his mind wander as he followed his son through the dim lighting of this new area. There might not be visible shadows here, but the press of sorrow was near unbearable. His mind flew back in time to his father and how he'd ever been a disappointment to Oropher. Never measuring up. Idly he wondered if Legolas felt the same way about him? Surely not.

The thought to ask him was strong, held back only by the presence of the dwarven warrior.

"Tauriel?"

Thranduil stopped short, only now realizing that the others had paused on the edge of …. "rocks?"

"She finds more comfort from the touch of stone than she does of wood." Came the words dripping with sorrow and strong emotion. Legolas turned and looked at his father almost accusingly. "Why did you send her here? You. Who eschewed all things Valar and swore never to sail here yourself. Who cut off your own people from ever thinking to set sail West?"

Thranduil felt the weight of guilt upon his soul, but did not wish to share those thoughts aloud. Still. If not here and now, then when? Cautiously he cleared his throat. "She was dying. Inch by inch. From the inside out. It was …difficult to endure watching." A vast understatement.

The short answer was. He'd owed her. She who should have been like a daughter to him if he'd only have allowed such. She who had served him well and in her own way had loved him. She whose grief echoed his own pain and loss in unbearable ways. He'd done for her what he could not do for himself.

"I sent her here to find peace. To heal."

"Her tears could form a new river in this land." Legolas said bitterly.

"Stop talking about me as if I weren't here." Came a tart voice that Thranduil remembered all too well.

Tauriel stepped out from among the rocks here, giant stones reaching over even Thranduil's height. She was as he remembered. And not.

Still pale and lightly freckled. Hair red and straight. Slim and strong. Beautiful. Thranduil frowned. There was no joy in her eyes, no spark of life. No …anything. A mask of her former face. Blank.

Tauriel bowed and Thranduil demurred, uncomfortable. "I am not your king anymore."

"If you are not my liege, you cannot tell me who to bow my head to then." Tauriel responded without heat. Without emotion. It made him ache to hear her voice so … lacking.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

It was a long year for the former Woodland king. He looked down into the never emptying wine glass and winced.

Was his need to drink so strong that the lands here no longer let him even pour a new glass?

The shift on the wind, a scent, a rustle. "I know you're there." He said absently.

"I have been standing here for nigh on the passing of half an hour, waiting for you to notice."

Shocked, Thranduil turned, running his eyes up and down the person standing behind him. It was a short trip. That person being a hobbit and all. "Hobbit."

"Mr. Samwise Gamgee, at your service." The hobbit bowed genteelly, as was his wont. "But then, you knew that. I have been urging you to use my name for nearly the past year."

"Time passes wrongly here."

"Yet it does pass." Samwise approached, looking around him and choosing to sit on the chair that had not been there but a moment ago.

Thranduil sighed, blinking twice. "The lands here dote on hobbits."

"They were, and are, happy with us and our part in the destruction of the One Ring." Samwise shrugged quietly. "Mr. Frodo was so very brave and strong."

Thranduil nodded, not mentioning that Sam's role had been described to him many times by both Gimli and Legolas. If the hobbit wished to downplay his own importance, so be it. Hobbits were strange folk to him. "I wonder if they are angry with me. For my part in speaking out against the Valar for so very long."

Samwise cocked his head to one side and then shook it mutely. "I doubt that, else you would not have landed here but would have continued sailing on forever."

Thranduil sipped rather heavily from his glass. "I have my doubts. Perhaps they let me land here, knowing I would and could find no peace here. A form of torture."

Frowning, Samwise actually considered those words before rejecting them. "Doesn't sound like the Valar I've met."

"Met?" Thranduil looked up, then grimaced. So much for being a king if the Valar took the time to meet with the humble hobbits and not royalty among the elves. "Never mind."

"She does not stir?" This question was almost a whisper.

Thranduil paused, the words bringing him much pain even as he shook his head. "And I cannot join her. I have stood, sat, and meditated for weeks on end. Moving not a muscle. I find no peace, no ease, and no lightening of my soul."

"You are not ready to join with the light, if you pardon my rude speaking."

The elven king wanted to lash out, but found he did not have the energy. Not against this most humble and yet brave of hobbits. So he stayed silent.

"I wish Tauriel could find that peace as well. She worries me."

Ah. Thranduil nodded, now knowing why the least forward of the hobbits had approached him. He agreed. The pain of his former ward drew at him as well. "I would not have sent her here if I'd known she'd find no rest."

"Her grief still overwhelms her, even so many years removed." Sam looked sadly down at his feet. "I took her some strawberries today, luscious and big they were. She thanked me, of course."

"Of course."

Sam frowned. "She needs …something."

"I have done all I could. When that wasn't enough, I bargained with the Valar to send her here. Did you know the Silvan elves don't sail here? She is one of the very, very few." Thranduil paused most sadly. "I thought perhaps they could ease her way here."

Samwise stared at him for a heartbreaking moment. "No one should be sad when there are fresh strawberries."

It was a nonsense thing to say. And yet it made all the sense in the world to the hobbit, the tall elf knew. He knew what it had cost Sam to approach him in this way.

Thranduil swallowed around a lump in his throat. "It is too bad that the Dwarven Halls of the Waiting weren't connected to this land somehow." He finished off his wine and then waited for it to refill. It did not.

Frowning he looked up only to see the most arrested look on the face of the hobbit. "Mr. Gamgee?"

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"Why did you not tell me?"

Legolas stared at his father who had stormed into his cabin, shocked to the core. He had not seen this level of anger since …well, for a very, very long time. "Tell you what?"

"That we can get to the Halls of the Waiting from here!"

"Oh."

Thranduil threw up his hands in disgust. "Yes. Oh! Oh, oh, oh! Is that all you can say? You have the means to ease her pain, you who are her dear friend and …"

"Did you not think we've tried?"

At his son's quiet words, Thranduil's anger tamped down slightly. He blinked. He blinked again. "You tried what?"

Legolas sat back, putting down the leather he'd been oiling. "Gimli's heart would soar with another dwarf here. And you know that I would do anything to ease Tauriel's heartache."

Thranduil stared. He hadn't even thought of Gimli, but now that the idea rose within him he realized it would mean a great deal to the dwarrow to see more of his own race.

"Yes. We can get to the Halls. But … there are guardians. Stone golums. If they but touch you, you are sent back here. We can't get close. They don't respond to speech, and they have no pity."

"But …"

"And they want to keep Gimli." Legolas' voice turned sharp. "Me they send back. Him, they try to turn to stone."

Thranduil's temper turned to cold ashes. "But there must be a way."

Legolas sighed wearily. "We found him. Once. He's turned to stone. Stone! They all are. Every dwarf that has ever been is in the Halls of the Waiting and you know what? THEY WAIT!"

Thranduil blinked.

"They sit there. Stone. Waiting. For the music and remaking of the world."

"Have you told her?"

Legolas sneered at his father. "I am not so cruel. She does not know. Only if we had succeeded in stealing him away would I have told her."

Steal. Thranduil blinked. Steal. Theft. "You, my son, need a hobbit."

"What?"

"You need a hobbit."

Legolas stared at his father, unsure. "Frodo is a very fine hobbit, but I can ask no more of him than he's already given. He is far more solemn than he was when we first met. The toll of being a ring-bearer is heavy."

"I should have been more specific." Thranduil swept out of the cabin in a burst of energy. "You need a burglar."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"You want me to what?"

Thranduil steepled his fingers together, his eyes compelling in their enthusiasm. "Steal a dwarf."

Bilbo shook his head, cupped his hand and slapped it against his ear as if he could not be hearing rightly.

"You're a burglar." The former elvish king reminded him.

The hobbit scoffed in disbelief. "I am not!"

"You stole the arkenstone. Quite efficiently I might add."

"Oh, but that was my portion of the treasure." Bilbo temporized. "Not thievery. And I only did it for the good of …."

"Yes, yes. I know." Thranduil waved his hands impatiently. "Excuse it in any way you might. I am asking you to steal a dwarf. For the good of Tauriel. For the good of Gimli. Even for you."

"Me?" Bilbo squeaked, jumping slightly.

"Do you deny you miss your friend?" Thranduil dangled the bait shamelessly. "Would not this dwarf also bring further light to you, Frodo and Sam?"

"You said he was a most merry fellow." Frodo teased with a grin.

"Oh, not you too!" Bilbo snapped at his nephew testily. "I may not look it, but I'm a very old hobbit."

Samwise scratched his head. "You jumped off the rocks into the pool of water before anyone else just yesterday."

"Hush!" Bilbo sighed rather fussily. "Besides. I hear there are stone golums protecting those hallways."

Thranduil smiled benignly. "There was a dragon protecting that arkenstone."

Frodo grinned. "You are always telling me how you miss your friends."

Bilbo made a snuffling sort of noise, but didn't disagree.

"Come now. You'll have me, Legolas, Frodo and Sam to assist." Thranduil urged. "I leave out Gimli as I'm afraid if he's caught there they will try and keep him."

"Nor Legolas, Sam or Frodo." Bilbo sniped.

Thranduil looked confused.

"They tried already. The golums sent back with them a thought. The Halls are closed to them. They can no longer step there." Bilbo sighed.

"Actually uncle." Frodo spoke up hesitantly. "I wonder if it is only mine and Sam's need to go that is blocked. You were never caught by the stone golums like we were. If YOU were to need to step there, with us with you, would it bring us along?"

Bilbo's left eye twitched noticeably. "You play at semantics with magical forces that you know nothing about? How foolish are you?"

"No more foolish than bringing home a strange gold ring you know nothing about." Sam piped up, then blushed furiously at his own temerity. "Though I am sorry for saying such, Mr. Bilbo, sir."

Bilbo puffed out his cheeks, then let his temper slide away like the tide. "No, no. You're right. I brought that accursed ring to the Shire and left it to others to deal with making it right. I'm so sorry lads."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"I will not be here tomorrow. If there is such a time period as the morrow, or the yesterday in a place such as this." Thranduil paused. "There is for me. For I break up my days in such a manner. But I don't know what it means to you, my dear."

Larissiel did not move or answer in any way. In no manner did she even seem to hear him.

"I go to steal a dwarf." Thranduil chuckled at himself, even as he wove two of the wild flowers that he'd plucked together. Flowers growing up around the feet of his wife. They were lovely, but he did not like to contemplate them overgrowing her …body? Was her spirit, her soul even here anymore? "Me. A dwarf. Is that not the height of hilarity? What would my father say?"

The tall elf looked up at the stars overhead. "Then again, my father would be horrified that I was even here. That I was seeking you out, yet again. I think I lived my life in spite of him." Thranduil paused. "As I think my son does to me." He added quietly. "Our son."

"I wish you could see him. Just once. He has grown so." Thranduil took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I am proud of him, though he made no choices in life such as I would have made for him."

"Sometimes I think he hates me."

"I do not."

Thranduil sighed heavily. "He's also a sneaky son of a …well, no. Not that word."

Legolas apologized with a bow. "I did not come to overhear you."

"This conversation was meant to be between me and your mother." Thranduil looked at the she-elf still staring up at the stars. "Or me and the sky above, I can never tell."

"I wish I could remember her better." Legolas looked longingly at the very still form of his mother.

"You were very young when she sailed."

"You were very angry. I remember that."

Thranduil nodded sadly. "I …I could not forgive her."

"For leaving?"

The former king nodded, sorrow weighing heavily upon him and bowing his shoulders a bit. "For not wanting enough to stay …with me. With us."

"I always thought you blamed me." Legolas couldn't leave well enough alone.

Thranduil shrugged. "I cannot say that I did not. I'd like to think not. But I was blaming everyone and everything at the time."

"Except yourself."

"No. Especially me. There is no hatred stronger than self-hatred." Thranduil looked over at his son. "I even blamed the dragon for marring my face and body, making me hide myself in my vanity."

Legolas had never heard his father speak of the fell wounds he received so long ago. By a dragon older and wilier than even Smaug. "You do not need to hide your face from me."

Thranduil gave a rough laugh. "I am healed here. Can you not tell? I do nothing to hide my face here. It is simply me. Much like your hobbit and dwarven friends appear ever young here without the ravages of age upon them."

"Why are you doing this?"

Thranduil looked up, weighing the question. He considered that his son knew why he came to visit Larissiel every day, and sometimes for weeks on end. So instead Legolas was asking about their plan for tomorrow. For which, he had only one answer. "Guilt."

Startled, Legolas' eyes widened. They were pure blue tonight, his father saw.

"If I had encouraged Tauriel. If I had accepted her as a daughter, you would be ensconced within the Woodland Realms. Married. Happy. Elflings. Everything. I …discouraged her, as my father once did to Larissiel."

"I did not know he did such." Legolas spoke hollowly, lost in his racing thoughts.

"I rebelled against him, and then somehow ended up doing the same thing to you." Thranduil's mouth twisted anxiously. "How the mighty fall."

"You married her without his blessing." It was a guess.

Thranduil nodded, showing his son's words were correct. "Then she left me."

"Us."

"Me. You she loved." Thranduil frowned sharply. "She did not respond well to the isolation of the Woodlands. The growing shadows that I know now were of Sauron's influence in his long, slow recovery from that first defeat. She, like the woods, turned murky. She could not thrive in such an atmosphere. I only thought she fell out of love, and I responded …poorly."

Legolas sniffed haughtily.

Thranduil sent his son a look from the corners of his eyes. "I did not want you to make the same mistake I did. I thought, wrongly, that Tauriel was a poor choice for you."

"I was never her choice."

"You could have been." A sigh. "You should have been."

"Any thought of such was lost the moment she met that dwarf. It was …you should have seen her face. It made me feel lost. She was his, even upon that first meeting. Though she would deny it, and say her love grew upon her. But I know. I saw. They were connected."

"And now we go to steal him from his resting place." Thranduil laughed, throwing his head back to look up at the stars. "And I can let go at least this one guilt from my life."

"Why do you feel guilt? You were not the orc who stole his life."

"I was the one who denied their love was real. I banished her once, for daring to choose a dwarrow. I did not want her attached to you, but it infuriated me that she would choose a dwarf. Over my son. Even if I did not kill him, I was more than unkind in my thoughts. And deeds."

"You made sure she got here. To try and heal her."

Thranduil shrugged off the comment. "And it is not enough. No. Tomorrow. I become a thief. It is the least I can do."

"Must we bring her with us? It will be an unkindness. Already you should see the feverish light in her eyes. She will not sleep this night. What if we fail? What if he remains stone?"

Thranduil nodded, these fears he too was having. "The hobbit burglar insists she accompanies us."

"You take council from a hobbit?" Legolas asked, not because he didn't respect Bilbo. But because he never thought he'd see the day his father would take advice from someone else.

This time Thranduil's smile was bright, open and genuine. "That burglar. You travelled with his nephew. You don't know."

"I know the stories."

"You did not SEE." Thranduil asserted with more calm surety than he actually felt. "He moved between fortified towns and mountains and across battlefields at a whim. He bearded a dragon, a Gollum, goblins, orcs, wargs and many other nasty things. You'd think it was due to Gandalf, but the wizard himself assured me not. That burglar is our best hope."

"And he requests she joins us." Legolas nodded a bit sourly.

"And so she shall."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

All of his fine words aside, Thranduil could feel second thoughts creeping up upon him. He watched as Bilbo fussed with his vest, uncertain if his buttons were sewn on tight enough. Mumbling something under his breath about losing them all once before.

"We need to be on our way." The antsy former monarch looked around their group with misgiving.

Legolas shifted the stave in his hands back and forth, as if gauging the weight. He looked up as Gimli walked over to them, wearing finely polished armor. "You're not going."

"You think not? What army have you to stop me?" The red-bearded dwarrow said pugnaciously. "I have yet to see you keep me from doing …well …anything." Gimli raised his eyebrows, simply because he was incapable of lifting just one.

And Legolas knew it.

"Blast you!" Gimli growled as the blond elf deliberately taunted his good friend by lifting just one eyebrow. "That is unfair!"

Thranduil sighed. He peered over at the group of hobbits. So small in comparison to every other race in Arda. And yet he knew their hearts were good and strong. Witness how they borne the One Ring. He knew he never could have done such a thing. Still. They were a less than impressive sight.

Samwise beamed at everyone, his hand on his walking stick and a green cloak from Lothlorien about his shoulders. And he had a large travelling pack, one that Frodo was digging through.

"Sam! We don't need all this food!"

"Well, you never know, Mr. Frodo. Who knows what we might need. Oy! Put those taters back in the pack! Them there are royal blues, right tasty they are!"

"Oh Sam." Frodo held up a cast iron skillet, which Samwise grabbed out of his hand with a moan. "But dear Sam, we won't be gone long enough to miss even a meal."

Thranduil twitched his lips. He hoped the young hobbit was right.

"You never know when a good skillet will come in handy." The hobbit protested, though between Frodo taking things out and Sam putting things back in …Thranduil wasn't sure what they would end up bringing.

"Here." The former ruler turned and his lightning fast reflexes allowed him to catch the rather heavy cudgel tossed to him by his former guard caption.

Thranduil sighed, looking at Tauriel. She hadn't looked this fierce and determined in well over a century. Her eyes were still red, but they were dry at the moment at least. "I would prefer a sword."

"We have none on us, and no smith willing to make any." Legolas explained coolly. "Gimli did not apprentice with the makers of things."

"I thought all dwarves made things." Samwise appeared puzzled.

"Money." Bilbo laughed, looking over fondly at Gimli. "If he's anything like his father he was raised to be a merchant and to make money."

The dwarrow flushed slightly even as he chuckled, nodding in acknowledgement. "My father took it ill that I did not return to investing after our Ring War."

"No worries, no worries." Bilbo grinned widely. "So proud of you, was your father. You should have seen the spark in his eye and heard the pride in his voice whenever you were mentioned."

Gimli grunted, shaking his head. "Hard to wrap my head around. You looking so young and knowing my father and the others."

"Those others are awaiting us." Tauriel sounded tight, distracted. "I wish I had my bow and blades."

"And what good are they with stone golums?" Legolas asked patiently. "Sam's fry pan is a better weapon than our bows, in this fight at least."

Samwise grinned suddenly at the mention of his name.

"Please. Let us go." The red-headed she-elf pleaded, turning her green eyes on her former king and leader. "Please."

"You have waited any number of years, child. Wait but a moment for us to be ready." Thranduil commanded as gently as he could. He could see her struggle to contain her impatience.

Tauriel caught her breath, then moaned. Her sorrow a near tangible thing. "This won't work."

"It won't if you decide it's going to fail before we even start." Bilbo chided her, though his voice was soft and encouraging. "Now. Who among us has been 'banned' from the Halls by the stone guardians?"

Legolas held up his hand, while Gimli grimaced. "Not banned. But if I'm caught by them I might not be allowed to leave again." The dwarf admitted.

"Which is why you should stay." Frodo chimed in, though he too had his hand raised. He and Sam both. They'd tried to reach the Halls before, moved by the sorrow of a she-elf beyond all measure.

Gimli drew up proudly. "What? And let it be said that hobbits went were a Dwarf refused to go?"

"So. Frodo and Sam. Legolas as well. Gimli should not be caught there for other fears. That leaves me and King Thranduil as well as Tauriel who have not been banned."

Tauriel snorted. "I have tried time and time again. Pictured Kili …" Her voice stumbled painfully over his name, but she bravely pushed on. "Pictured him clear as a summer day in my mind. But upon my arrival here, I was informed that I could not seek out my dwarf because they don't belong in the Undying Land. No matter how I tried, I could not ever get there."

Gimli sighed with deep regret. "And then the Valar made this area available to a single dwarf. Me."

The she-elf winced but nodded. "After learning of the burglar's ring and the fate of its bearers, I often wondered ….if Kili had carried it, even once. Would he have been allowed here with me?"

Thranduil coughed to garner attention. "I have not been the best supporter of the Valar and their ways."

Legolas snorted at that vast understatement. His father and father's father had isolated the Woodland Realms away from the Valar, feeling they were not good for the fate of the elves.

"So I don't intend to start now." Thranduil continued. "They made room for Gimli, they can damned well make room for another dwarf."

Bilbo made a strange little sound.

"Uncle?" Frodo called.

"No, no. It's nothing. Now. Is everyone ready?" Bilbo called, clapping his hands together as if hosting a party instead of a burglary.

"We need to think of our need to reach the Halls of the Waiting." Thranduil began, then frowned sharply as a polite cough interrupted him. He glanced in no little disbelief at the diminutive hobbit.

"No. You all need to think of NEEDING to be with me, to protect me." Bilbo smiled benignly. I will be the focus then and it will be I who will be thinking of where we need to be."

Legolas hummed under his breath slightly. "So that those who were banned from the Halls will still be able to follow."

Bilbo nodded his head, rather pleased.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

In the end. Getting there was the simple part.

Thranduil looked around himself in utter disbelief. "These are the Halls of the Waiting?"

Gimli nodded, as if unable to speak in such hallowed territory. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and round with awe. "I have not been here before though."

Legolas shook his head. "We always entered from the main rooms."

"Waste of time." Bilbo waved a hand at the stone statues seated before them. Each face was familiar, and very, very dear to him. Every detail was perfect, and they all looked like they should only be asleep. If they weren't made of stone. "Tauriel?"

The she-elf could not hear him over the pounding beat of her frantic heart. She ran forward with a sob, stopping before Kili's stone effigy, her hand hesitating only slightly as she reached for him.

Kili was seated and solemn looking.

Bilbo frowned. It didn't do the lad justice. For Kili was a dwarf rarely still, and almost always smiling or laughing. "Touch him." He urged.

Thranduil heard a strange scraping noise from down the hall. He spun, heavy staff at the ready. The sight of the stone golum coming toward him made his eyes widen. "You did not tell me they were so large!"

"I did not call them little." Legolas muttered, facing the other direction, and another stone giant.

Tauriel put her hand on what should have been Kili's left knee. She cried out at how cold the stone felt to her touch. She put both hands on his too-still form, her breath stopping as absolutely nothing happened.

"Call to him!" Hissed Bilbo. "Let him know he is needed. Then we can wake the others."

Thranduil spun, staring at the hobbit in shock. "Others? What others? We came here to steal a single dwarf."

"Do you know that a group of geese is called a gaggle?" Bilbo said in an off-hand manner while Tauriel leaned in, whispering into a stone ear.

Thranduil didn't have time to comment, as the hobbit continued. "A group of crows is a murder and a grouping of turkeys is called a rafter."

"So?"

"If it is turtles you're after, a group of them is called a bale." Bilbo grinned, even as Tauriel began to weep. Her tears falling in large drops on Kili's stone arm.

"SO?" Thranduil roared, turning back to stare at the oncoming, if slow, stone giants. "What did you mean …"

"Do you know what a group of dwarves is called?" Bilbo asked sweetly. "A Company. They are called …a Company."

"No! One dwarf. One! That's all I asked you for!" Thranduil hissed.

Bilbo smiled and turned to stare as Kili's stone form began to grow in color. In color and warmth and …

"He blinked! I saw him blink!" Frodo called excitedly.

Tauriel shouted the dwarf's name, and Kili's head turned in her direction. Life simply …returned. He frowned, staring at her. "My love?"

Bilbo beamed, then screwed up his face in concern. "Kili! We're under attack! Where's your brother?"

Kili didn't think, being so recently reanimated he wasn't exactly at his most astute. He simply reacted. "FILI!"

The blond dwarf immediately fell forward, unable to withstand a plea from his younger brother. Stone returned to life as blue eyes blinked in stunned disbelief. He spun and spun, looking confused. "What happened to Azog?"

"Long dead." Bilbo pointed at the stone giants getting uncomfortably closer.

"Dead?" Fili's eyes went wide and his hands went to his chest and belly, searching for wounds. "But …"

"Call your uncle." Bilbo smiled, pointing at Thorin's stone form.

Fili paled and looked to his brother. But Kili was lost in a rather heavy embrace with a certain she-elf. The blond dwarf blinked rapidly. He turned, and spied … "Little Gimli?"

"Not so little, or so young anymore. Cousin." Grinned the red-bearded dwarf. "A little help with these giants. I'm afraid if they catch us we'll be returning to stone."

Fili blinked and looked at Thorin. "Uncle! Uncle Thorin! Help us!" He made a face as he searched his clothing for weapons. "Where are my blades? What happened to my damned blades?"

Samwise yelled and Fili looked at him, confused by the appearance of a hobbit he didn't know. "Here!"

Fili caught the iron skillet with no problem, and no clear understanding. Still he hefted it and grunted at its weight. Sam dropped his pack and pulled out a second skillet while Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"You brought two?" Frodo asked incredulously.

Samwise shrugged. "Even if I needed one to hit with, I wanted another to cook with!"

"Oh Sam." Frodo sighed.

"What goes on here?" The gruff voice brought a grin to Fili's face and a scowl to Thranduil.

"Don't know! Think I'm dead, only not." Fili yelled. "Stone giants. No weapons!"

Thorin stood rather stiffly, looking like a temper might roll over him at any moment. "No! I mean with your brother!" He pointed.

Fili glanced behind him and grinned sloppily. "If you have to ask …."

"He's KISSING an ELF!" Thorin roared.

"They've been in love since they met." Bilbo supplied with a slight wince. "Yes. Quite. Old news, really."

"That was less than two weeks ago!" Thorin shouted.

"Two weeks and over a century." Thranduil snapped.

Thorin blinked. Turning stunned eyes onto the tall elf lord.

"A century. As in years." Gimli supplied then grinned as Thorin's mouth dropped open at the sight of him.

"You're …you're …"

"No longer a dwarfling?" Yes." Gimli smiled. "Now. Can we leave?"

"Yes!" Thranduil muttered.

"No." Bilbo frowned. "Thorin, call for aid!"

"It's just two stone giants." The former King Under the Mountain looked appalled. "Why would we need aid?"

"Not for aid, but to get them here." Bilbo flapped his hands rather urgently. "Trust me!"

Thorin cocked his head sideways and gave the hobbit a disbelieving look. "You stole from me last time."

"And now I'm stealing you! You big ….oaf!" Bilbo snapped. "Only I appear to be greedy. I want more dwarves!"

Thorin's eyes widened and he looked around. None of the stone dwarves near where he'd been sitting were …familiar. "Father?" He paused at one statue. "Can I wake him?"

Bilbo winced as the first stone giant reached them, he watched as Frodo and Legolas dodged the first two blows aimed at them. "Call for aid! Whomever answers, we take!"

"DURIN'S LINE! TO ME! TO THE KING!" Fili roared. Then shrank back as Thorin turned a glare upon him. "TO HIM!"

"Kili, stop kissing that silly elf! Get over here!" Thorin paused, then sighed. "TO ARMS! TO YOUR KING!"

Suddenly the hallway was full of dwarves, all confused. Bilbo grinned as he spotted a few familiar faces, and then he NEEDED them to be home.

Samwise ducked a punch from a stone giant, whose fist struck his skillet with a resounding noise.

And then they were home again.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

The party lasted over a month. But all the real excitement was in that first night.

A huge bonfire lit the sky bright enough to rival the moon and stars.

Dancing, song, and ale were plentiful. Laughter and tears were common.

Thranduil sulked while sitting on a humble log, his hand cupping his chin. He kept mumbling about the 'plan' being for 'one' dwarf. Just one.

Thorin reunited with Dis, who had answered his call to arms. Only to lose her again as she chased Kili around the entire area trying to get him to explain about the red-head he was clinging to the entire time. Fili laughed and tried to outdrink Dwalin. He failed.

Finally Thorin moved to sit down next to a hobbit. "So. You decided to burglarize the Halls of the Waiting?"

Bilbo made a face and then bobbed his head slightly. "Is that what it looks like?"

Thorin made a choking noise and waved his hand at the area holding at least thirty to forty dwarves. "Some of them I don't even know." His mind boggled at the very idea.

"You called them to their king." Bilbo sighed. "You didn't say which king you were."

Thorin rubbed his face and laughed. "You'll be the death of me, hobbit."

"Already happened." Bilbo said dryly.

Thorin's laughter deepened, and then he looked up. "You robbed the house of the Maker. Have you no fear?"

"Simply borrowing you all." Bilbo shrugged. "You can go back to stone if you want. Any of them could."

The former dwarven king sighed and looked around as he rolled his expressive eyes. "And leave poor Kili alone with his mother and the elf? I'm not that cruel." He paused. "He's really in love with the red-head?"

"You were lost in the song of your gold." Bilbo tried not to let judgment tinge his voice.

Thorin still grimaced, even as he nodded. "I missed much in those days."

Bilbo nodded.

"But an elf?"

Bilbo nodded.

"This is a joke."

Bilbo reversed his head movement to a shaking from side to side. "She's cried for him this entire time."

Thorin stilled his next protest with a grunt.

"I mean, look at them." Bilbo and Thorin both stared at where Fili and Bofur were holding off an angry looking Dis. And further away, Kili and Tauriel were still tightly embraced. As they watched, his hands moved and ….

Both Thorin and Bilbo looked away. "Perhaps we shouldn't look."

The former king laughed. "Perhaps we need to get them a house."

"With curtains on their windows." Added a blushing hobbit.

"Who said they were allowed to have windows?" Dwalin sat down on the other side of the hobbit.

"Did you know Kili was in love with the elf?"

Dwalin glanced at his king sadly. "Everyone knew."

Thorin grumped and crossed his arms.

Bilbo looked around, seeking a change of subject. "Who is the dwarf that Bifur is talking to? Wait. Bifur is talking?"

Dwalin chuckled. "Distant cousin to Gloin's wife, I think. And Bifur's head wound is gone. Just gone." He sounded so pleased about it too.

"Some of these dwarves I don't know." Bilbo complained. "Oh my, Dis is on the loose again. No, good. Oin has distracted her. While Gloin and his wife are fussing over Gimli."

"Where did Fili get to?" Thorin asked, then groaned. "I need more ale."

Dwalin looked and then started laughing. "She's a lieutenant's of Dain's I believe. Or was at one time." He amended. "Pretty."

Thorin groaned.

"Who's that Balin is talking with?" Bilbo asked, curious at who might have the older dwarf looking so abashed.

Dwalin grimaced. "Our father." He said in a rather small voice. "He's taking Balin to task for dying at Moria."

"Oh dear."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Thranduil almost wished for a headache, or some such thing, so that he could excuse himself. Everywhere he looked there were happy dwarves and hobbits. Small and large reunions everywhere.

A hand on his shoulder made him stiffen. Who dared to touch him without permission? He looked up, and went into shock.

Larissiel stepped over the log he was seated upon and then joined him. Her hazel-blue eyes large and curious as she looked around at the gathering. "It was loud over here."

"Did …did we disturb you?" The elvish lord nearly choked on his words, not wanting to startle her. Or say the wrong thing.

"It sounded happy." Larissiel said, a bit bemused. "I like happy."

Thranduil bit back a sob, his heart literally aching within his chest. "I …have missed you."

The beautiful elf who had captured his love so many years ago turned to look at him. Thranduil could only hope she saw something in him worth staying for. She bit her lip.

"Don't leave." The elf pleaded. "Legolas will want to see you. Speak with you."

"Legolas?" Her voice turned immediately hopeful.

"And I." Thranduil couldn't help but add. "I would want to see you. Speak with you."

Larissiel drew back slightly, watching him. "You've changed."

"I'm still an arrogant elf and I …."

"You've changed. I can see it." His wife put her hand on his mouth so very gently, stilling his words.

"I was so angry with you." He admitted. "Hurt."

She watched him with what looked like sorrow in her gaze. "And now?"

Thranduil slowly moved his to cover her hand with his, lifting her palm with first one and then the other hand. "Now. I'm just grateful for the chance to see you once more."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then the smallest of smiles turned her lips upward. "I missed you too."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Don't hate me. I really was trying to update my other stories. Actually, there is a reviewer to blame for this. She and I were PM'ing about our enjoyment of Kili/Tauriel stories. She mentioned that sometimes she gets "crazy" plot ideas. I said, "Yeah. Me too. Like this one where Tauriel breaks into the Halls of the Waiting to steal a dwarf". Boom. Okay, the story changed some in the writing, but this is what happens when rabid plot bunnies run amok. :P


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